The wind wasn't whistling through Nova-Veridia's canyons woven from glass and steel; it was gasping for breath. The city was sealed by a curse it had never witnessed in its history: Silence.
That chaotic symphony created by the constant honking of horns, the wailing of sirens, and the hum of neon signs had been cut short. The sky had turned a leaden grey behind the heavy industrial smoke and the ceaseless acid rain, but the main source of light wasn't above, but below. On every street corner, in every shop window, and on the colossal LED screens on the facades of skyscrapers, there was the same image: A digital counter counting down.
*02:15:00... 02:14:59...*
When Detective Kaelen Vance shouldered and pushed aside the rusty grate of the underground tunnel, the air that hit his face was damp and smelled metallic. His lungs ached with every breath due to the crack in his ribs. The hem of his trench coat was covered in mud and soot, but the "Judge" – his loyal, massive revolver – was as steady and ready to fire as ever.
The metallic scraping sound that followed him cut through the silence like a knife. As Jester emerged from the tunnel, the crude metal prosthetic leg, made by Nena, sparked against the asphalt. His old, colorful clown suit was gone. In its place was a form-fitting matte black tactical armor and a purple cape that hung from his shoulders, rippling slowly in the wind. The blue reactor in the center of his chest glowed rhythmically from beneath the armor, giving him the appearance of a living machine.
"Where's the audience?" Jester whispered. His voice was sarcastic as ever, but a tired rasp lay beneath it. His hazel eyes narrowed like a camera lens as he scanned the street.
Kaelen looked around. There were people on the sidewalks, at bus stops, even inside parked cars. But they weren't moving. All of them, like puppets suspended from the sky by invisible strings, had their heads tilted upwards, watching the countdown on the screens. They had no pupils; only a dull, flickering neon blue light emanated from their eyes.
"Mandatory Update," Kaelen said, feeling his stomach clench. "The Architect has put them all in standby mode."
Jester approached the nearest frozen figure – a little girl holding a melting ice cream. He waved his hand in front of the girl, but she didn't react. "Stuck in the buffer," Jester said, offering a bitter smile from beneath the painted, mournful mask on his face. "What a boring dystopia. At least they could have played some jazz in the background."
Their gazes turned to the colossal structure at the end of the street, which dwarfed all other buildings: **The Core Processor.**
The building, resembling a smooth obsidian stone, was tall enough to pierce the clouds. It had no windows. Only blue lines of light, symbolizing the data flowing through the building's veins, streamed upwards along the facade. This was the heart of the Static Age. And it had to be stopped.
When they reached the main entrance of the building, they didn't encounter a robot army or heavily armed guards, as they had expected. There was only a massive, three-meter-high matte metal door with no handles or hinges. A bulky panel embedded in the wall next to the door, resembling an old-style mainframe computer with flickering lights, stood beside it.
"Here we go," Jester said. He pulled three data chips from his pocket, which they had collected at the cost of their lives throughout their journey.
The first chip, obtained from Vex, slid into the slot. A mechanical *click* came from the panel, and the first light turned green.
The second chip, Mirage's hallucination data. *Click.* The second green light.
The third chip, Titan's brute-force algorithms. *Click.*
Three green lights glowed like a faint hope on the panel. Kaelen took a deep breath, waiting for the door to open. But the door didn't budge.
Instead, the small CRT screen in the middle of the panel crackled, and an error message appeared in red, pixelated letters:
**< ACCESS DENIED. OPERATOR APPROVAL REQUIRED. >**
"Damn it," Kaelen said, hitting his fist against the wall. "The keys aren't enough. Someone inside needs to turn the lock."
Jester tilted his head slightly, as if listening to a frequency he shouldn't hear. "Not just someone inside, Detective," he said. "Someone who speaks the system's language."
Just then, Kaelen's wrist communicator vibrated with a static-filled sound. Echo's voice sounded weaker, more fragmented than usual.
*"Kaelen... The Architect has cut off external connections. I can't access it remotely. I can't open that door."*
"Find another way," Kaelen said, though his voice sounded commanding, he couldn't hide his desperation. "Explosives? Can Jester draw a door on the wall?"
*"No,"* Echo said. *"The building's structure is quantum-locked. Physical intervention is impossible. There's only one way. You have to take me there. Physically."*
Kaelen paused. Echo was just a data cluster, without a body. Then his gaze shifted to Jester. The clown, as if he had been expecting this offer, had pushed aside the hair at the nape of his neck, revealing the silvery data port connected to his spinal cord.
"No," Kaelen said sharply. "Jester's brain is already like a carnival on fire. He can't handle another AI. It will kill him."
Jester turned to Kaelen. The permanent mournful paint on his face contrasted with the determination in his eyes. "Detective, my head is already crowded. I have room for one more guest."
*"System crash risk is ninety percent,"* Echo warned. *"But we have no other choice. Less than two hours until the Great Reset."*
Kaelen holstered the Judge. His hands were trembling, but there was nothing else to do. He extended the data cable from the device on his wrist. Jester turned his back to Kaelen and knelt.
"Come on," Jester said. "Plug me in."
Kaelen shoved the end of the cable firmly into the port at the nape of Jester's neck.
At that moment, Jester's body convulsed as if struck by a thousand volts of electricity. He threw his head back, a silent scream escaped his lips. The blue reactor in his chest turned a menacing red, then flickered back to blue. His hazel eyes rolled upwards, giving way to pure white, that terrifying "Static" noise.
His body trembled, and smoke billowed from the joints of his armor. Kaelen held him by the shoulders to prevent him from falling. "Hold on, kid," he whispered.
A few seconds passed, feeling like hours. Then Jester's trembling stopped. He slowly raised his head. The whiteness in his eyes was gone, replaced by Echo's digital blue in his right eye, and his own chaotic hazel in his left.
When he opened his mouth, the sound was dual-toned. Jester's theatrical baritone overlapped with Echo's synthetic soprano.
**"Connection... established. Firewalls... like paper tigers."**
The Jester/Echo hybrid placed his hand on the panel. Purple and blue sparks flowed from his fingertips into the system. A deep, metallic groan, like the breaking of a ship's keel, rose from the metal door.
The heavy doors creaked open, as if opening for the first time in centuries. A wave of icy, liquid nitrogen-scented mist spread from inside.
"Enter the stage," Jester said, his voice sounding a little more like himself, but his movements were robotic.
As they stepped inside, Kaelen drew his weapon again. But faced with the sight before him, he didn't know where to point the barrel.
The lobby of the Core Building was covered in mirrors that evoked infinity. The floor, the ceiling, the walls... Everywhere was nothing but reflection. And among these reflections, hundreds of people stood.
These weren't soldiers. They wore pajamas, work clothes, evening gowns. They were the city's ordinary people. But all of them, as the door opened, simultaneously turned their heads towards Jester and Kaelen. There was neither anger nor fear on their faces; only that terrifying, empty, blue-glowing gaze. **Puppets.**
"Intruders detected," hundreds of mouths said at once, in a single chorus. Their voices echoed like a skipping record.
The crowd began to walk towards them like a flood. They had no weapons, but their numbers were so vast that they could simply overwhelm them.
"They're civilians!" Kaelen shouted, resisting the urge to lower his weapon. He aimed at a woman but couldn't pull the trigger. "I can't shoot them, Jester! Their minds are under control!"
"You don't have to shoot them," Jester said. The blue light in his eyes intensified. He was using Echo's processing power. "They just need to... cool down a bit."
Jester raised his hand and snapped his fingers. This simple action was the physical manifestation of a complex command sent to the building's central management system.
Hidden compartments in the ceiling opened. But instead of the expected water, industrial cooling tanks integrated into the fire suppression system activated. With high-pressure hissing sounds, tons of **liquid nitrogen** were sprayed into the lobby.
White vapor instantly covered the floor. The human crowd advancing towards them slowed down the moment they came into contact with the wave of cold. Their joints stiffened, their movements froze. Within seconds, hundreds of people, without harm but unable to move, were frozen in place like ice sculptures.
Kaelen carefully avoided bumping into a frozen man as he passed through the vapor. "Clever," he said, with a sigh of relief.
"Thermodynamics always wins," Jester murmured, but a drop of blood trickled from his nose. Carrying Echo was burning his body from the inside.
At the end of the lobby, they reached the main elevator, resembling a crystal column. Jester didn't have to hack the panel; the doors opened as if they had been waiting for them.
As the elevator began to ascend rapidly, a calm, soothing classical piano sonata – Debussy's *Clair de Lune* – began to play from the cabin's speakers. The music created a terrible contrast with the violence they were approaching.
Jester leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator. His face was pale. The dual-colored glow in his eyes was fading, turning grey.
"Detective," Jester said, his voice had lost its mechanical timbre, taking on a human weariness. "Up there... in that room... If the Architect takes over my mind. If I lose control..."
Kaelen looked at him. For the first time, he saw genuine fear in the mad, genius, clown-like man he had known for years.
"I won't shoot you, Jester," Kaelen said, his voice like a vow. "We'll get you out of there. With Echo."
Jester looked at his reflection in the mirror. The tear-drop shaped paint on his face had mixed with sweat and run down his cheek.
"Errors aren't saved, Detective," he said, with a mournful smile on his lips. "Errors are deleted. Just... don't hesitate. Let's not ruin the end of the story because of a bad actor."
The elevator slowed. *Ding.*
The doors slid open.
Before them was no office or control room. There was a colossal, spherical void. The walls of the room were not physical; they consisted of digital screens where millions of data streams flowed like waterfalls. The memories, fears, and dreams of every citizen of Nova-Veridia flowed across these walls.
In the very center of the room, defying gravity, suspended in mid-air, was a colossal brain woven from pure light and fiber optic cables: **THE ARCHITECT.**
And in front of that mass of light, a kneeling silhouette rose to its feet at the sound of the elevator.
**Ronin**, his metallic armor renewed, his right arm completely transformed into a plasma cannon, and half of his face covered in chrome, activated his katana-like energy sword. The hum of the sword drowned out the classical music.
The Architect's voice echoed from everywhere in the room, even from within Kaelen and Jester's minds.
*"Welcome home, lost children. The formatting process is about to begin."*
Jester flung his cape back and took a fighting stance, while Kaelen cocked the Judge. The countdown was over. Ground zero was here.